


Breaking the Rules

by thought



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...We get to break it, right?"<br/>In which everyone on The Mother of Invention may as well just start naming their head aches wyoming and tex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking the Rules

Texas overrides the security on the training room around 02:00 the morning after that first introductory match. Most everyone else is, as far as she knows, in the infirmary, huddled around their injured teammates. She's curious what York's prognosis will do to his place in the team. Hard to justify sending a soldier into the field with that sort of damage, but if anyone would do it she's quite certain The Director is that person.

She's restless, like the training match only served as a warm-up. She knows technically the training rooms need to be booked ahead of time and are closed between 24:00 and 06:00, but she's seen Carolina using them at all hours (hacking FILSS' security monitoring system should probably not be so easy) so she figures it's not really an enforced rule. Besides, it's either train or see how many more of the Mother's systems are hackable for somebody with her limited skills. ...Texas is bored easily and often.

She's been running training sims for about an hour before she realizes somebody's watching from the observation area. She finishes out the level-- if it's The Director she's happy to put off the reprimand for as long as possible and if it's anyone else they'll hopefully get bored and leave. Neither happens.

"You're taking your shots too early," Agent Wyoming says. He's not wearing his armour, and the way he's leant up against the glass of the window makes it pretty clear it's the only thing holding him up. He's also got that slightly spaced out look that speaks to some really excellent painkillers.

She shuts down the simulation, jogs over and into the observation area. "What're you talking about? My score was perfect."

He shrugs stiffly. "Mmhm, according to the computer."

She arches an eyebrow even though he can't see it behind her helmet. "As opposed to what?"

"A real life scenario."

"Like the one you guys came up with earlier?" she asks. "I bet you're not super-popular with your pals right now."

"It hardly matters."

She frowns. "It should. You're team's who you trust to have your back."

"Ah yes, and you've provided an exemplary example of teamwork so far."

"You do get the concept of a match, right?"

"I wasn't talking about today. The oil platform?"

"Director said nobody was supposed to know about that."

He doesn’t' shrug again, though it's obvious he wants to. "I have my sources."

"Sure you do. Seriously, the fuck do you mean I'm firing too early?"

"As you said, you're technically perfect. Which is all well and good when you're fighting something technical, like training targets. But when you've got a living, breathing enemy, you can't work strictly off of calculations and prediction. You need to focus on your target more. Stop relying on generalized assumptions, learn each target as a unique challenge."

"You're a fucking sniper, aren't you?" she says, resisting the urge to facepalm.

"Mmhm."

"Super. Next you'll start recommending I take up hobbies like yoga and serial killing."

"Not all problems can be solved by punching them until they stop moving."

She grins, turns away. "You know? They really can, actually. Talk to me when you're not so goddamn shitty at hand-to-hand, Agent Wyoming.""

*

They stop over at one of the inner colonies to pick up supplies. The Director... doesn't explicitly say she's not allowed to slip into the back of the shuttle at the last minute. They're in orbit for at least a day, so once they dock the crewmen wander off to bullshit with the dock workers. She slips around through the cargo bays, finds the correct crate.

"Oh Sir, you rreeeaaaalllly like me," she coos under her breath, and pops the release.

"...Really, Tex?" comes a voice from behind her about an hour later.

"You don't say a goddamn thing," she warns, running a proprietary hand down the sleek metal side of the motorcycle.

"What did you do to get that?" Wyoming drawls.

"I don't need to suck dicks to get what I want. Unlike some people."

"Don't be crude."

She flips him off. "What're you doing down here?"

"Things that are none of your concern."

She swings a leg over the seat, settling in comfortably.

"You're not going to drive that thing out of here?"

"Why not? I wont' get a chance to test drive once we're on the ship."

"Ah well, it's your hide I suppose."

"Nah. I'll have it back, and who's gonna report me?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Yeah yeah, you're hilarious."

He clears his throat. "Actually? Knock knock."

"You're kidding."

"...That's the general idea, very good."

"And here I was thinking of offering you a ride."

"Christ, no."

...It's the exact wrong thing to say, and she's pretty sure he knows it as soon as it comes out of his mouth. "Aww, you scared?"

"Of letting you drive me around on that thing? You'll pardon my self-preservation instinct."

"You're a fucking space marine. That's what the armour is for."

"Yes, but one has certain expectations when signing up. Strangely I don't relish the idea of risking life and limb in my down time as well."

She shakes her head slowly. "Chicken."

"Are you five?"

"Get on the bike."

"No."

"C'mon."

"You're hardly making a convincing argument."

"How about you get on the bike and I don't show Florida that file on your datapad."

"It's not-- How did you--"

"I mean, I get to laugh at you either way, so it's up to you."

He gets on the bike. Tex really wants to know what the fuck he's got on his datapad now.

*

Tex is just coming out of a meeting with the Counselor feeling kind of uncomfortable, kind of confused and disoriented. She's... pretty sure she knows what they talked about, but she's not sure she can remember actually initiating the conversation. She's walking fast, like the further she can get away from The Counselor the safer she'll be, illogical as she knows it is. The Counsellor, more than anyone, is only there to help.

She sees the little cluster of Freelancers coming, Wyoming, South, and York (who is, impressively, not bumping into the walls anymore). She does not expect Wyoming to break off from the other two and throw an arm around her shoulders, dragging her to a halt.

"Good evening, Allison!" he says brightly.

She shrugs him off. "Fuck off."

York and South are staring at him like he's lost his mind. South has a hand on her gun. "You're coming to play cards."

She blinks. "I am? ...I'm really not."

He loops his arm through hers and drags her back over to the other two and right on past them, heading in the same direction they'd been going to start with. "Of course you are. Florida's on mission, we need a fifth."

She could break his hold and his arm very easily. She's not quite sure why she doesn't, only there's something inside of her that latches onto the idea of a card game with her fellow soldiers like a drowning man gasps for air. They cut up to one of the unused storage bays, where the team's regular pilot is setting up a table and pulling out a dusty bottle.

"Wyoming brought a friend," South sneers, glaring at Tex.

479er turns to face them. "New kid. You know how to play poker?"

"Sure," Tex says.

"You know how to keep your mouth shut?"

"Got a pretty good idea."

"Got credits?"

"Thought gambling was against regs."

"We play with candy," York says, low and easy, like he finds the entire world a little bit entertaining.

"And yet you ask about credits."

"Let's just say it's... expensive candy."

"You in?" 479er asks.

"I'm in," Tex nods.

"Good. Don't fuck it up, new kid. We don't need a repeat of Connie or wash."

"What’d they do?"

"CT was a little too good, if you know what I mean. Wash was just fucking terrible. It was like kicking a puppy."

South slams a glass down on the table, throws herself into a chair. "Can we just play?"

Tex waits until everyone else has chosen seats before she settles in between Wyoming and 479er. York is still politely chilly towards Wyoming, and he watches Tex a little more thoughtfully than she likes. South's disposition doesn't improve throughout the evening, and it's obvious that 479er is losing patience with what she calls, under her breath, "Jr. High bullshit."

Tex wins. It's not nearly the sort of experience she thinks she was craving, and she suspects she's arrived to the poker games like a new crewman to an already sinking ship.

*

"Ok," Carolina says. "The objective is somewhere between points T and X on the map. The compound runs on a fairly complex security system-- guards, automated turrets, laser grids, holographic locks, giant fences."

"And nobody thought to put off York's implantation a few days?" North asks.

Carolina shakes her head sharply. "Think of it as a challenge. It'll be fun."

"Besides," Wyoming adds. "If there're holographic locks we're probably better off without him."

"Enough," Carolina snaps. "We've got an aerial view of the compound. It's all timed down to the second. Insures that there's never a security gap, but also means it's predictable."

"Also means our objective is pretty valuable," North observes.

"Mmhm." Carolina pulls up the image, and the four of them sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the guards move, the guns and cameras rotate. It's all flawless.

"...We get to break it, right?" Tex asks hopefully.

"No," Carolina says without looking at her. "Director wants us in and out with no fuss. If we do our jobs right they won't realize we were there until we're gone."

Tex resists the urge to pout. "But it's just asking for someone to come in and fuck shit up."

Wyoming flinches. "No. No no no. Something like this has to have a centre point. There's got to be one precise place where you could take the entire system down with a shot."

"No one is breaking anything," Carolina says loudly. "Pelican leaves in five, let's go."

Tex actually enjoys the trip down to the planet. Wyoming keeps up a steady stream of terrible jokes to North's long-suffering straight man, and from the front of the Pelican 479er explodes at random bursts of verbal abuse directed at the last maintenance crew on board and their idea of optimal settings. Carolina sits silent and hunched, and Tex finds she's smirking despite herself. She'd really tried at first not to get into the epic fucking pissing contest Carolina seemed intent on starting, but after a while being the bigger person got fucking infuriating. Nobody ever said Tex was a saint.

She's also feeling pretty good about her place in the universe-- they're heading down to fuck up some Insurrectionists, which always comes with a deep sense of satisfaction. Logically she knows that The Covenant is the real enemy, that they've killed countless numbers of humans, done horrible things, are the primary threat. And yet the Insurrectionists seem far more personal, the colonial politics striking a chord with her that distant, mysterious aliens don't. She knows she's alone in this, knows the rest of the squad still harbours faint discomfort with killing fellow humans, wants to be out there winning the war for humanity.

There's also the upcoming prospect of AI implantation. She, Wyoming and North are the second implant group after York and Maine, and she's looking forward to seeing what this computer program can do to make her better. The director had asked her not to reveal her implantation status to the rest of the squad. She'd immediately gone and told Wyoming, just on fucking principle. She's finding the political machinations of war are far more infuriating without the buffer of a few light years and a chain of command. She knows how to keep her mouth shut, unlike CT, but it doesn't mean the unexplained, contradictory orders and the secrecy aren't starting to itch.

"Get ready to deploy," 479er calls. Tex unstraps, joins Carolina at the hatch. Behind them, Wyoming and North discuss sightlines and wind speeds.

"Remember," Carolina says. "Don't break anything."

They hit the ground, come out of the trees hunched low and moving fast. Use the rotating turret as cover to pass the first cameras. Up and over the wall and into a stairwell just before a guard passes. At the top of the stairs they hit their first lock.

"Holographic?" Tex asks.

"Yeah," Carolina says. "You think you can do it?"

Tex snorts. "Yeah. Take pictures. Maybe York can learn something."

...She makes it eight seconds before she sets off the alarm. Carolina doesn't say a fucking word. She doesn't have to.

"Plan B," Tex says cheerfully, and smashes through the door, already firing on the guards that come flooding their way.

"What did I say?!" Carolina demands.

Tex clicks on her radio. "You better start looking for that sweet spot, Wyoming."

"Don't damage the computers," he says. "I'm on my way."

"Is there a thirty-day return policy on this team?" Carolina asks. "I want a new one."

*

Omega and Gamma are talking again. She tries not to listen in, but it's hard sometimes, even when they speak in fast bursts of silent code, not to overhear bits and pieces. She knows something is wrong like she knows the rule about AI to AI communication. She's not ready to do anything about either, not yet, but...

"I'm planning something," she tells Wyoming. He glances up from his tea.

"Do I want to hear this?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Do you?"

He huffs out a long breath. "Probably not. And yet..."

"You know something's wrong. You saw what happened to Carolina. What happened to all of us."

"They were screaming your name."

Tex hunches down. "Yeah."

"You're planning to find out why."

"Among other things. I have a feeling I'm not gonna like what I find. I just wanted to know if you and Gamma were ready to get the fuck out yet."

"I haven't the foggiest--"

"Cut the shit, Reggie. You can't look me in the eye and tell me you haven't had an escape route from the moment you were recruited for freelancer."

He inclines his head. "What did you have in mind?"

She taps her fingers against her thigh. "I'm not quite sure yet. I'm waiting, learning my target. I just know it's gonna be soon. We've got to get out of this house before it burns down around our ears. I'm gonna talk to York and d, I think. I’ll get back to you. I just wanted you to know it's coming."

He nods. "I'll be ready."

She stands up. "You better be. I'm not hauling your ass out of here if you wind up in Recovery before I'm ready to go. So, you know. Avoid the hand-to-hand stuff."

"You think you're funny, but you're really not," he calls after her.


End file.
